Terminator
by Narutoscreed
Summary: The year is 2029 and the world is about to end. Earths pop.is near 72k. Voldemort is winning, but I plan to change that. Terminator like setting xover, no ship, no slash, back in time-travel fic. Harry Potter like never before or your money back.
1. Chapter 1

Terminator

Terminator

Chapter 1

A/N – I don't own the characters and they are used without permission as are the several key ideas in this work of fan fiction. This is a plot bunny that hit me about an hour ago, and that's all the time I've taken to write this and proof-read it. That's how insistent the idea was. Chapters will be slower if I choose to continue it. Then again that's up to you. Your reviews will decide.

/ Story begin \

The heavy cloud filtered the moonlight providing patchy visibility on the scene of burned out carnage. Not the immediate carnage of people dying, but the carnage that accumulates over decades of war. Shattered, burned out shells of buildings, the wreckage of a once great civilisation, streets filled with fallen masonry and burned out rusted muggle vehicles that had been blown apart and left whee ever they landed. Amongst the wreckage and detritus of destruction were the skeletons of the dead. Thousands of them, millions still where they'd fallen. Nothing living moved, in that scene.

A high whirring roar could be heard somewhere off in the distance, then it vanished only to sound closer the next time it was audible. A minute late it sounded further away, as if it were sweeping across the shattered city searching for something. A crunching sound much closer and closer to the ground drew attention. A foot moved into the visible area and crushed a human skull with nonchalance, the same care it would have given if the street had been clear. Whatever it was didn't take another step and the area suddenly widened to show a dark figure of gleaming stone, humanoid in shape, but not human, definitely not human as it surveys the shattered wreckage with glowing red eyes.

A movement much further away and it snaps the wooden staff it's carrying into firing position before releasing ten rapid bursts of green energy that streak away and strike the rapidly moving target which flares a light blue as our shields hold, once, twice, a fifth time and I'm preparing to switch frequencies, eight and I'm placing the rune sequencer, nine and our gunners gone. A hole blown through her chest as the power of the shot throws her from the six wheeled ATV weapons platform. Another skeleton to lie in the streets unlamented by humanity, other than the rest of her team. Some think it doesn't matter because she was a muggle but I care.

Damn, Voldemort has improved his shield breaker algorithms. It is important information but we don't have the time and it's not as important as our mission. The Terminator(damn the muggle who saw that movie) having fired its ten shots froze waiting for the staff to recharge sometime in the next two hours. We once would have fired a transponder to mark the location so that another team could destroy it, but the Dark Lord might have proved himself arrogant but he wasn't stupid. Where once that Terminator would have been alone, now we knew there would be three others somewhere nearby just waiting for us.

The secondary gunner slips into place and places his shoulder into the braces just as the whirring roar returned, this time the sound only got louder, it wasn't searching anymore because it knew that we were here. It came in low, sweeping around the shattered wreckage that had once been a mighty sky-scraper at roughly a hundred metres. Powerful light beams arced from its underneath followed rapidly by much larger bolts of green than the Terminator had been able to produce. This wouldn't end in ten shots as the flyer had larger magical storage capacities. Who's waiting for eight shots? Certainly not me, I'm frantically changing rune sequences as the shields once more flare blue all around us. The gunner screams out defiance as he opens up with the large quad barrelled magi-cannon, some might have mistaken it for a laser given the light show as blue light seemed to flow from the weapon in answer to the green bolts. It's ineffective but every bit of magical energy that it uses to enhance its shields is one less shot it can fire at us.

We had the same problem of course, but we had a way around it, we didn't need rune crystals to store our magic for later use, we had found muggle channelers who could handle vast quantities of node magic but couldn't utilize it themselves. Voldemort hadn't discovered that fact yet and we prayed he never did as it was our one advantage. The fact that no muggle lived long in his presence wasn't something we should have been happy about but the less contact he had with them the less likely he would find out about our one advantage and neutralize it.

The ATV takes a corner throwing off the gunners aim, missing with several shots. On the other hand the large pile of rubble between us is now taking even more damage from the flyer. Even though it can't see us for a second the rune sequencer is still working through the last five combinations I put in and I'm not stopping anytime soon, it might not be able to see us but it can still extrapolate and right on cue our shields light up once more. Another corner but this time I'm ready and don't slam a shoulder into the left hand roll-bar.

Figuring it's the only chance we'll get I call for them to mount the secondary weapon, a seventy-five millimetre recoilless rifle with extensive enchanting work on both the reloading mechanism and the cooling systems. Fifty rounds a minute is pretty good for a weapon of this power, the trouble is we've only got twenty five rounds of the rune-sabot variant ammunition developed for this weapon. Basically a high powered round designed to accelerate a spike of hardened obsidian with explosive rune clusters engraved on its surface. Designed to penetrate the outer layer of hardened stone, hard in the way that muggle electronics could be hardened against an EMP strike except in this manner it was hardened against magic. Probably why the flyers had been given the nickname of Dragons. These rounds were designed to punch through that two inch thick stone armour and then explode inside the crafts superstructure hopefully causing enough damage to bring it down. With only twenty five rounds we'd need luck and lots of it.

It flew around the same corner we just had, banking hard to the right as it skewed further than it intended. Wouldn't matter to it if it had crashed into the building opposite since it was pretty much indestructible and it had the power to simply bull its way through the wrecked building if it chose. Not that it would as that would waste even more of the power it was hoping to unleash on us. If you think I'm being silly to give that monster up there too much credit, or think that I'm projecting humanlike mannerisms to what is basically a machine, let me disabuse you. The reason I treat it like this is because it really is capable of human thought. The fact that every Dragon is controlled by a human brain suspended in a solution of liquid imperious isn't a widely advertised bit of information, and we don't know much about the process. We do know that they are single minded and they know what to do with the power at their disposal. Luckily they can only react to what they know, or are taught. They haven't seen this before and they don't communicate instantly so they aren't likely to learn about this either.

Recovering it's trajectory allowed it to miss our first three rounds, the next six slammed into the underbelly, two screaming away as they ricochet into the night, just more bright sparks that won't mean anything. Three rounds lodge in the exterior doing nothing when they explode other than light up the target. I wince, it doesn't look good until the underbelly expands slightly and the Dragon shakes in the air. Not enough to damage it, it seems since the flyer is still up there but enough to make it pause to analyse what just happened. Neither it or any of its brethren have ever had anything explode inside them before, not even the early experiments with mini-guns had done something like that. They'd managed to cut a few early Dragons in half with mini-guns before Voldemort had added armour and shielding to them but they'd never exploded before.

Pausing proved to be fatal as it allowed our gunner to aim properly and the next rounds penetrated more volatile places like the nose cone, and wing joints. The brain didn't die since it was too deeply buried within the machine to be reached but its sensor array went dead in a bright flash. The right wing pin-wheeled away as the explosion of three rounds tore it loose. Blind the Dragon tried to compensate with only the left wings spatial distortion engine and failed miserably as it found itself hanging from the motor as gravity took hold and allowed it to be smashed into the ground. The already weakened right side collapsed completely as explosions shook its frame. Energy crystals began to explode, tearing further armour from its structure and exposing the internal workings of the monster to our scrutiny.

We'd stopped in the meantime, the weapons mounts on the Dragon were no longer a danger since the controlling brain could no longer 'see'. Plus we were pretty sure the guns were damaged by the explosion that had taken its sensors. We needed information more than we needed to be moving and we could take the time to find out what was around us before me moved again and possible found ourselves in an ambush that we'd been driven into.

"Sweep!" I called out. Knowing that our shield would be lowered was a daunting thing but necessary when doing a magical sweep. The channelers who had been powering both the shields and the main weapon were huffing slightly while we waited for more information. I drew a little of their power to conjure more of the sabot rounds. It had been a successful field test of its capabilities and I'd be suggesting that we put more effort into their manufacture in the future, if we lived that is.

"All clear!" I raised a sceptical eyebrow at the man waiting for him to elaborate, "Well except for the Dragon here and the four T's we left about eight kilometres away. There doesn't appear to be anything within ten kilometres that can harm us."

Appear was the term that worried me, there was always the possibility that Voldemort had perfected some kind of stealth technology that we wouldn't be able to 'see' until it was too late. Not likely I know but then again the first surprise in this war would likely be our last. Knowing what the dark tosser could do we weren't going to act stupid, and like always we weren't going to give up an advantage by letting Voldemort recover any information before we had to. It was the nasty surprises that we could unleash that had kept the war going as long as it had.

"Take it apart," I didn't even need to explain as Christoph opened fire, blue bolts of energy lanced out and struck the Dragon. It might have been hardened but it wsn't invulnerable and before to long the brain case was completely exposed. Once we'd made the mistake of just vanishing the brain, but we learned later that Voldemort had built in defences against that and had recovered information that had led to he deaths of one of their hidden bunkers. Twelve hundred men, women and children had died that day and we'd vowed never again. I have to be careful here since you can almost guarantee that messing up here will be dangerous. Clear liquid poured from the canister the second I broke the seal, I wasn't wasting any time though. We simply didn't have it, I released the package that I'd been holding in a shrunken chest and watched as it writhed. The heavy canvas began to sprout dark points as whatever was in there pierced it making their bid for freedom. I shielded as soon as the first black carapace became visible and prodded it towards the now open braincase and watched satisfied as several hundred scarabs followed that first one.

Scarabs are meat eaters and for the most part the brain was meat. The results were inevitable, in six hours the scarabs would lose cohesion and return to the air from which they'd been conjured, leaving behind piles of semi-digested brain matter which he hoped Voldemort tried to extrapolate some kind of meaning from. It added whole new meanigs to the term 'Shit for Brains'

We don't have time to watch that though so we slowly pull out and head for our primary objective. Why slow? Because most of the sensors we'll bypass are looking for fast moving targets, so certain is he that nothing travelling slowly could be a threat. We'd prefer to take the tortoises view of things, it gives us time to figure out whether we're heading for the finishing line or a barbeque where the hare is the guest of honour. I'd apologise if anyone could read my mind but twenty years of constant war is bound to give one a slightly dark sense of humour. Enough of that, we're moving. Not towards our final target as one would expect, only Gryffindors and fools attack full frontally, that and corpses which is all we'd be if we tried that.

There's another way, it's dangerous but not as dangerous, we should be able to get through. Especially with me there to assist. My survival now isn't paramount like it once was. If I live, if I die doesn't matter. I had my chance and its been gone for more than twenty years, my responsibility is to make sure there is a second chance.

Ten minutes pass in relative silence, the only sounds the slow whirr of our magically driven motors and the crunching sound the tires make as they pass over the badly damaged and eroded terrain. Ahead I can see our first objective. The front door is a deathtrap so we're going to use the back door or at least the old sewers that pass under most of the city. It'll still be dangerous, we're not the only ones who've thought of this, Voldemort did as well but he placed his defenses and then left them to their own devices knowing they'd stay where he put them. Acromantula were a little like that, once they had a good nesting site that was safe they'd happily travel wherever they needed to for food and with the now wild cows, pigs, sheep and chickens that wandered the landscape they didn't need to go far.

Arveeg was king in this domain, fifth son of Aragog, who instead of entering the battle for control of his fathers' domain had escaped. Deciding to let his larger, tougher brothers have the territory rather than end up dead. Sure he was smaller than his brothers but in essence he was Draco to their Crabbe and Goyle. He was smarter than they, and knew that the only reason they left him out of the initial free-for-all was that they thought they could take him at any time. They would have been right as well so he'd done the only sensible thing, waiting for them to fully engage he'd snuck off and stunned a lone female that happened to be a third his size and then he'd escaped into the south lands where he'd establish his own kingdom. That was until the stone men had come and he'd discovered that they weren't vulnerable to his poison like normal people were.

Luckily Voldemort had only been there to make an offer he really couldn't refuse. One which went, 'Join me or die'. It was simply worded and the answer inevitable given Arveegs' mentality. So here we are looking at the entrance to Arveegs new kingdom and knowing that we aren't going to be sneaking in un-noticed. We're prepared for that though and the two sentries die with barely a high pitched squeal to mark their deaths. Putting on the glasses we were each carrying we enter into the manmade cavern and begin to march in the direction we need to go.

The culvert was one of the larger ones in the London metropolitan area and would measure a good thirty feet across, luckily there hadn't been very many humans in the city for decades and the water in the drain was just that, clear water. The waste and detritus of mankind having been washed away long ago. Not that I'd want to bathe in that so called clear water, let alone drink it. Maybe in a few hundred years that would be a possibility but I wouldn't make any bets on it.

I can hear them. I knew I was right when we entered, those high pitched screams had carried much further down the drains than we would have thought and Arveeg's children lay in wait, trying to hide in the darkness of the ceiling where most prey wouldn't look. That was why we were wearing glasses, heavily charmed glasses that allowed us to see in the dark as clearly as if it were mid-day outside. They're still now, not even their mandibles clicking to give them away, if we couldn't see them we'd never know they were there. A normal Acromantula wouldn't have that amount of control and would have given itself away by now as the excitement of the hunt overpowered its mental control. It spoke well of Arveeg that his children were so intelligent, a pity as well being as we weren't going to let them ambush us as we passed them. At sixty feet from them I stop and my squad stops as well, seventeen men and women await my command. I'm not commanding though, I intend to act and there's nothing the others can do to help. Tapping into the six channelers I intone the spell I want.

"Soflarus Maxa!" I cry out and watch as a small ball of light shoots from the tip of my wand. A good thing our goggles are enchanted to control light or we'd all be blind right now as an incandescent ball of plasma lights the darkness of the tunnel. Beginning to accelerate the ball begins to lose cohesion and expands, I can see the Acromantula once more and they don't look happy. The fact they're creatures that have lived in darkness for decades might have had something to do with that, the fact they have eight eyes to be pained by the incredibly bright light might be another. Or it might be the fact that as the ball of plasma lost cohesion it began to heat up, at thirty feet from me it was nearing a thousand degrees at forty five feet it had doubled that and we could feel the heat wash over us. They must have realized what was going to happen because I can see them panic and begin to attempt to flee back over the bodies of their brothers. It's futile, but I know they know that but instinct is sometimes stronger than knowledge, they'll die either way as the heat flares and their bodies begin to burn. We can smell the charred hair on their bodies even as they attempt to curl up and protect themselves, something else that is futile, the heat is so intense it's desiccating them where they cling leaving smoking husks in its passing. The hundreds of charred bodies are all that remains of a once mighty Acromantula colony.

We know that we haven't gotten all of them, there are more down here but I'm pretty sure Arveeg has learned a valuable lesson and won't risk anymore of his children or his mates, but it's always best to make sure.

"Sonorus. Arveeg, we have no quarrel with you. Do not attack us and we will not hunt you." My voice echoes off the walls all around us. Maybe that was stupid, there are hundreds of thousands of miles of pipes down here and I'm pretty sure that I was just heard all over the city, and that right there is one reason why it wasn't all that stupid. How do you pinpoint the start point of a sound in a system like this? The answer is, 'You don't.' Even the fact that I was talking to Arveeg wouldn't help any searchers since Arveeg's chamber was a long way from here. There's nothing between us and our target now and we set off once more.

Two miles more of this and we're near enough to begin the next phase of our attack, runes are drawn on the tunnel wall and once more I draw power through the channelers to power something that would have been beyond any spell caster in history including Merlin himself. Does that make me more powerful than Merlin, heck no, where do you think I learned about channelers in the first place? Merlin was an anomaly, a wizard who could channel, something that had never happened before as far as recorded history was concerned and has never happened since.

Channelers are distinct from wizards in that they can't use the power they can channel, they couldn't even really sense it passing through them. That's probably why Merlin had erased all records of channelers from the written histories. That didn't mean he didn't leave a record of them, just that it wasn't written. In fact it was almost a prank what he had done, the recording of Merlins history had spoken to nearly every wizard and witch in the United Kingdom for over a thousand years and none had been the wiser. Merlin placed a lock upon the knowledge that certain things would have to happen before the seal on his information would be released and so one day the Sorting Hat chose me to learn some truths that no one else knew. By that time it was almost too late for the survivors of Voldemort's 'Purge of mankind'

The runes flashed red then green as power pulsed through them, several seconds passed before the wall before us vanished completely leaving us staring at a tunnel. We entered quickly, it was a good defensive position because even if there were more Acromantula and they attacked now, they simply were too big to enter this tunnel. The man at the back was also carrying one of the only surviving mini-guns and the last of the ammunition, not that I couldn't transfigure more if he ran out. I'd rather not take the time though as I begin to jog. Time is critical now. The longer we take the more likely Voldemort will act and stop us and we can't have that, we can't or all of this will be for nothing. Sounds pretty stupid to say that, of course this would be for nothing, but that's not what I meant. I was referring to the deaths of nearly six billion humans over a twenty five year period.

We've moved nearly three hundred metres when I hold my fist up to halt the squad. We've reached our target, and from here it's not going to be pretty, the wards are too massive to remove, so we're going to do the next best thing. We're going to punch a hole through them, brute force, absolutely nothing fancy involved. It won't even matter if the channelers that power this can't move afterwards. I haven't made any secret that none of us are likely to survive this, they knew it coming in. Why do it then you ask? Well I don't have a good answer, it won't win us this war, it won't hurt Voldemort, the only answer I can give is one we didn't have before. Hope.

I'm not even going to use a spell here, just unleash the magic and watch the results as a shaft of raw magic punches through the wards, the rock beyond and the research facility beyond that. Hopefully we haven't hit anything critical to our purpose in being here. It shouldn't have since we know that the underground facility that we're looking for is another hundred feet or so below us but this is magic we're dealing with and thus it's a chance we've had to take. I cut off the power, heaven knows how long this shaft extends now. I have no way of knowing as I'm too exhausted to care. Turning back to the team I find we've lost four of the six channelers, death by burnout isn't pretty as I look at their charred bodies with a sense of regret, and maybe a little jealousy of the fact that they're beyond all of this now.

I'd like to have taken the time to see their bodies retrieved but instead I have to move on with the mission to give their deaths some meaning. To give us a reason to continue. Once inside the tech team place runes.

"Sir? Six feet down to the next level." Like I said we aren't here to destroy, we're here for something else. This time I have to use my own power, the surviving channelers aren't in any condition to help and the reserve is exactly that. He doesn't know it yet but he's not here to help in this attack, he is the reason for this attack. Precision vanishing takes time, which I don't have. The hole appears as if it has been torn from the concrete, dust erupts around us. Again I don't have time to let it settle and drop another rune cluster down the hole followed by a Soflarus. The non lethal version of the light spell drops into the hole and lights up the cavern below as I watch it fall sixty feet and come to rest on the uneven floor below. Scanning the room I see something that I never expected and hoped never to see again. The thirty foot bulk of a Golem, I'm moving before I even have time to think. Rolling away from the hole the rest of my team freezes in shock as they watch me move. I roll to my feet once more and notice that despite my expectations the hole behind me isn't an expanding ball of flaming shrapnel, in fact nothing has changed and I'm beginning to feel sheepish as my team regard me.

"Golem," I say and watch as the tension increases even more, I don't need to expain anymore. They know why I moved like that.

"Um, shouldn't we be dead my now?" That was a question I really didn't want to answer just in case I was wrong. But it was pertinent, six feet of concrete between us and a HK Golem wasn't nearly enough to ensure survival. There had only been the one HK Golem and it'd taken eight years to discover how to kill it, and thirty good wizards to actually accomplish it. Where Voldemort got the first one we don't know, I suspect Egypt since the outer skin of the Golem was covered in hieroglyphs but I couldn't be sure, they could have been Sumerian or Babylonian. One thing we did know was that he only had one and probably didn't know how to make another. I cautiously moved back to the hole and peered down once more, this time seeing gantries and cranes attached to its bulk. It didn't seem to be active, which was a very good thing.

"It's dead," sighs meet my proclamation as I turned to the scouts.

"Another six feet sir." I nod as I drop through the hole, levitating myself so that the sixty foot drop doesn't kill me. The others are using ropes like sane people, but then no one ever claimed I was sane did they? I'm too busy covering their descent to care what anyone thinks about me anyway. I gaze at the humanoid shape that sometimes comes back to haunt my nightmares. I'd seen this thing before when it was still alive and I'd seen it tear apart whole battalions of muggle tanks. Aircraft had dropped everything short of nuclear grade weapons on it and even oxygen bombs hadn't even so much as scratched the thing. And it had destroyed, and kept on destroying. To see it on the battlefield was a death sentence and only port-keys and hasty apparition had saved my life the few times we'd met. Here it was though, or at least a facsimile of it. It seemed after having lost his only Golem that Voldemort was trying to recreate it by reverse engineering it.

If so we had done the right thing to be here now, if he ever succeeded in this project there wouldn't be any chance for us at all. Once we'd completed this mission I was going to make sure this thing was destroyed and anything else I could find that he wouldn't want me to destroy. Maybe if I got lucky he'd show his scaly face for the first time and I'd get a chance to kill him.

The ground beside me vanished as I punched downwards once more, this wasn't our target. My team seemed unable to tear its eyes away from the terror that was on this level and I had to remind them to move before I dropped down once more.

This was what we were looking for. A magic circle, it sounds corny when it's said like that but they can be some of the most powerful magical devices every created depending on your willingness to pay the price. Want to summon a demon from another dimension? This is your best shot, the fact the price is often your immortal soul is beside the point, they work and that's all we needed to know. This one wasn't set to another dimension though, this was set this one, or more accurately the fourth dimension, namely time. What I was looking at was a temporal gate, and if our resources were right it was active, waiting for Voldemort to use it. His problem is that we got here first, and if I have my way he won't get a chance. Some of the materials used in the construction of this circle are irreplaceable one of a kind artefacts and once we've done what we came here to do they'll be smoking cinders.

My team now numbering thirteen since we lost the channelers, with two of us nearly out of commission converged on me to get any final orders that I had. Everything had been pretty much as we'd planned but like they say, no plan survives first engagement with the enemy. We hadn't really met the enemy yet but then again we'd mostly been planning blind when I'd ordered this mission.

"Ethan, bring it to me," I wasn't carrying our weapon. Not because I couldn't use it but rather because I was a primary target for the dark lords forces and we couldn't risk losing what was in that small box. It wasn't much bigger than a jewellery box, but then what was inside wasn't much bigger than the average wizard families heirloom ring so it made sense in a way. Weapon might be the wrong term as well, it's not a weapon but rather a protective amulet. We've discussed the plan so often everyone here knows what to do with it and why, the core of the team even know what's about to happen as I turn with the box in my hands and thrust it into the unresisting hands of an unknowing volunteer. He's looking at me with wide eyes that are asking what I'm doing, even as his fingers fumble to hold onto their precious cargo.

"It's time John," I say as I will him to understand.

"But you…" he trails off even as I refuse to take the box back.

"…Can't go back John. You know that, we're already pushing our luck sending anyone but we're pretty sure if I go back that it's all over bar the shouting. Voldemort will win because we think I'll cease to exist, and I'm not willing to bet against the top theorists into temporal travel. Now move, we don't have time for this." He looks like he's going to argue but the rest of the team isn't going to wait for him. They're already rushing to the shaft that contains the lift and putting up the wards to inhibit travel between the levels, next come the defensive wards and I can feel them going up, tey tingle against my skin as they 'taste' me. No one is coming through the ceiling like we did, or if they try to use our holes they're going to find out the hard way that it isn't a good idea.

John must have decided I was right as his knuckles go white around the box he carries. His eyes narrow as determination is born in him and I know that I made the right decision. He will do what is necessary. I'm not ready to let him go, one thing I was carrying was a small silver flask, anyone who'd dealt with a penseive would recognise what it was. This wasn't as necessary as the amulet he was carrying but I wanted to give this to serve as sure knowledge of what we faced if we didn't succeed.

"Take this. Give it…to me when you think I'm ready for it." I wouldn't order him to give it at a specific time because he would know best. If we were lucky I wouldn't be who I am now, and if I had time to think about that I'm sure I'd need to have a good lie down with a cup of tea and my blankie. Fortunately we don't have time and I give him a shove in the right direction and watch as he moves to the centre of the circle. I'm already moving towards the control panel when he turns to watch me. No one is speaking now, there aren't any words, no righteous speeches. All we can do now is act.

I've got to hand it to Voldemort, his creation is elegantly simple, the only control that I can see is a headset and a small green button. It's intuitive how to use it, lace the headset on and think of your destination, both spatially and in time and when you've got it fixed press the button. Any dummy can do it, which is why the room has dimmed as the magic circle begins to drain all magic within reach.. Our carefully crafted wards crumble in seconds but then again so have Voldemorts. I can feel them go, anti apparition, anti port-key, alarm wards and killer wards all collapsing as the magic is sucked into a maelstrom around the circle. John disappears in a flash of white and a sound that proves indescribable, dissonance is as close as I can get.

"What have you done!" Nice timing old man.

"Hello Tom," yep still hates that muggle name. I can feel him now, the link is so strong. I can feel him gathering his magic to blast me and I don't have much left to stop him. I don't think I will in any case, I've got better uses for my last reserves.

"You know you're dying for nothing? As soon as you die I'm going to go back and make sure things work out my way." I can hear the sneer in his voice. A sneer that's cut off as one of my men decides the dark lord is distracted enough that he has a chance. The roar of a sub-machine pistol is heard and the slugs slam into him with enough force at this close a range to throw him from his feet. I'm not going to wait for him to get up as I pour magic into the console before me reducing it and the seven time-turners he'd been able to scrounge out of the Ministry of Magic to a white hot slag. There won't be any interference with my plans now. Time to re-write fhe future.

The year is 2029 and the war continues. My name, Harry Potter and I am the leader of the rebellion, a rebellion we are losing. Oh, and I may have just destroyed the time space continuum. A better fate than the one we were destined for I think.

/ Should I continue this? \

A/N – Review please. Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Terminator

Chapter 2

Disclamer – not mine, and if you believe I'm a single mother sitting in a garage typing on a bashed up keyboard then you're sadly mistaken.

Authors notes:- It's been a while since I worked on this even though most of the chapter has been written for months. My muse smacked me over the head with a different story and has kept me working on other things since then. This is the first real chapter of an AU story. The very concepts in this story, while following canon to a certain extent have been totally revamped in my personal vision of magic. Hopefully others enjoy my story as much as I enjoy writing, even if I take time to get something out it's not because I'm not working it's more to do with proof-reading my own work before I release it, and yes, I know I still miss things. **I invite you to review and point out inconsistencies and mistakes in both grammar and plot. Other REVIEWS are welcome as well.**

**/ Godrics Hollow August 1981 \**

The attic of number 16 Pinkerton Parade, Godrics Hollow was a dark and dusty place, cluttered with the detritus of a hundred or more years of having a sole family in possession. Amongst the detritus a large chest in one of the corners had gone unnoticed when the latest generation of Potters had moved in, as had most of the contents of the attic, no one had had time for a thorough search of the premises and even if they had there were only two wizards alive who could have penetrated the powerful Notice me not wards placed upon it. The chest was like one of the old steamer chests that travellers during the early nineteenth century were want to use, five feet tall it stood and a good four feet across, it was also fairly deep at three feet. A lot of luggage could be stored in a chest of this size, or in the case of a wizarding family almost anything could be kept in there, up to and including a space forty times the size that the outside dimensions of the chest would suggest.

The chest was as dusty and cobwebbed as any of the bric-a-brac that cluttered the confined space, but it hadn't been in that position for more than six months total and the appearance of the chest was mere artifice, right down to the nameplate that proclaimed that a Steven Potter had owned it at one time. And so it stood there, six months, waiting for something to change, something important. Someone knew long before the event that it was going to happen and this was the only way to circumvent their preparation. The time had come, the house at Godric's Hollow had been placed under a Fidelius ward and the time of waiting was over.

No one was close enough to hear the nearly silent squeak of a hinge as the chest was pushed open from the inside by a pale hand. Anyone who'd seen muggle horror movies would probably be reaching for the garlic and stakes right about now but they'd have been wrong. Of course the point would have been moot since a wooden stake in the heart will inconvenience most living creatures, but John Connor wasn't a vampire. In fact he'd never seen one, they like many of the other magical species had simply ceased to exist in his timeline. Stepping outside for the first time in seven months he straightened to his full height of six feet and looked around him. It hadn't changed at all, or maybe a box or two had been added when the Potter's had moved in, but it was hard to be sure with all the clutter.

Checking his glow in the dark watch he noted the time was just after midnight and if he did this right he'd have a chance, he just hoped that the Potter's hadn't arranged any nasty surprises in the house. Then again why would they? They thought they were safe under the Fidelius ward and that no one knew they existed let alone where they were. The attic door opened with a creak that sounded much louder in the early morning darkness than it should have. His heart pounded as he crept down the stairs that connected the attic to the upstairs landing. If his reconnaissance was correct James and Lily Potter would be in the master bedroom round about now, and nothing he could see led him to doubt that. The fact that there wasn't another light on in the house and there was only silence as he slunk down the corridor.

He'd been planning this the entire time he'd been in the chest as he flicked the light on in the hallway. It wasn't electricity like you'd find in a muggle home but rather a gas light that had been magicked to act just like it. The instant light caused him to squint a little as he approached the door to the bedroom and twisted the handle. There was a slight cracking sound as the door began to move inwards and then he slammed the door wide with a loud crash that would surely wake the dead. Unfortunately neither of the Potter's were asleep even at this time so they didn't bolt up from a restful slumber, thought it did take them some time to get untangled as they thrashed around in the middle of the bed as they tried to reach their respective wands. John watched amused as the young couple, who'd been doing what young couples were supposed to do, panicked. Whoa, Mrs. Potter, he thought as they both managed to spring out of the bed and began to raise their wands at the figure in the doorway.

Neither of the rooms occupants saw as he dropped the small stone object in his hands to the floor, neither wondered why it was he swung away from the open doorway, and they'd never understand just how in hell a death eater had gotten into their homes. A second after he released it the stone struck the floor and erupted in a bout of concentrated magic that knocked both of the experienced magic users out instantly. John was covered by the sturdy door frame so hadn't seen more than the bright flash and the roar of sound that had his ears ringing for nearly a minute. He wouldn't have wanted to be where either of the Potter's had been, well maybe James, he thought as he remembered what they'd been doing.

Two minutes later and both of the adult Potter's were back in bed with their hands and feet restrained, the baby Potter was in his crib across the room. Unfortunately he hadn't known that the baby slept in the same room as they did, not that the runic array he'd dropped would do any lingering damage to the child. It just irked him that he hadn't counted on that, not that he was going to complain, the adult Harry Potter was a real pain in the arse at times and this was possibly the first time he'd managed to shut him up, ever, so all in all it was probably a good thing.

Gently patting Lily Potter's face he backed away as she began to come around and then he repeated the same thing with James, only a little harder. Fifteen seconds later he was the recipient of two fearful gazes, one from the most intense emerald colour and the other from a rich caramel brown set of eyes. They both took a moment to notice that they were propped up in bed and decently covered by a thick blanket, it wasn't very comforting since they were still tied and completely at their unknown assailants mercy. The fact he was sitting calmly at the foot of the bed watching them as they catalogued their current situation and wasn't making a move to harm them in any way was confusing.

"You're probably wondering who I am?"

"I don't need to know your name death eater," James spat at him vehemently.

"I'm not a death eater….quite the opposite in fact," John stated carefully as he considered them.

"What do you want?" It seemed the man wasn't ready to let go of the belief that the man before them meant them harm.

"I have to apologise for the way I greeted you a moment ago, but I couldn't see any other way of speaking to you without having one or the other of you blow me to pieces before I had a chance to explain anything. Look, if I were a death eater you'd both be dead already, well maybe not you," he gave Lily a look before continuing, "But you and the child would be dead." James went red as anger suffused his body with adrenaline, his wife on the other hand had gone pale at the implication of what would have happened to her. It was with a shaky voice that she asked.

"So what do you want?"

"Like I said, a chance to explain. This is really complex and it's going to be hard to believe for you."

"Alright, start talking," the brown eyes of the man were narrowed in anger.

"Okay, but first, I'm going to untie you." Now both of the Potter's looked confused.

"Why would you do that?"

"I already said this was going to be a pretty unbelievable tale. I forgot to mention that it's going to be a long tale as well. Besides I'm pretty sure that Mr Potter here has some veritaserum he could give me so that you'll know I'm speaking the truth," he gave James a considering look. He knew that the man wasn't above breaking the rules where his job as an auror was concerned.

Neither of them moved as he approached with a knife and deftly slid the sharp blade between their bound wrists releasing them. In James case he stepped quickly out of range before the infuriated male could take a swing at him.

"Your wands are on the bedside tables," he mentioned a second before raising his empty hands while both of them pointed their wands at him. "I'm unarmed, I don't have a wand. Even if I did it wouldn't help since I'm what you people call a 'Squib'."

"If that's the case how'd you subdue us?" Lily asked quickly before her volatile spouse could end the conversation with some of the nastier hexes he'd learned over the years.

"It was a runic array, based off of a muggle invention called a flash-bang grenade. We got the noise and the intense light and then threw in a little magic for a stunning effect. Not terribly useful if your opponent is wary or prepared for anything," his admission earned a growl from James.

"James, not now. So what do you want? Mr.?"

"I told you, I have a tale to tell you. And it's Connor, John Connor."

"Well Mr Connor," James asked with a sneer in his voice, "what do we do now?"

"I assume you'll stun me."

"Pardon?"

"It's really simple. Unless you're comfortable sitting there in the altogether while we talk then you'll need to get dressed. Now I'm no pervert so I'd really rather not see anymore of you two than I already have, and I know for a fact that neither of you will trust me out of your sight so you can't just have me leave the room. Therefore I suggest you stun me and then re-enervate me when you're ready to talk."

Something he said must have made sense to the furiously blushing Lily as she cast a silent stunner in his direction and he crumpled bonelessly to the ground, or maybe it was just that fiery temper that went with the natural coppery hair.

/ \

It was an ironic turn of fate that found John waking up bound to a rather utilitarian dining room chair as he gazed across the narrow expanse of a matching kitchen table. Groaning softly as the last effects of the spell began to dissipate he carefully tested his bonds and found they were sturdy. His feet were tied to the chair legs while his hands were behind him and tied to a support strut. A surreptitious check found the chair was stuck to the ground which reinforced his belief that much magic had gone into reinforcing the chair.

"So you said you had a tale for us?"

"Ooh," he groaned, "That's quite a stunner you have there Mrs. Potter. Yeah, I've got something you really need to hear."

Lily acknowledged his jab with a grim smile before continuing, "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Veritaserum first."

"No, I think I want the answer to a certain question before we begin. How did you get inside the Fidelius?"

"That's quite simple. I knew you were going to place the ward so I entered the house before you did so and then waited until a couple of days after I felt the ward go up. Now about that Veritaserum?"

"You're really hung up on that aren't you? Anyone would think that you had some kind of resistance to it, or maybe an antidote." James sneered again.

"I'm a squib remember? I'm sure you checked me out while I was unconscious so you know that's the truth. You also know that it takes massive magical power and similar willpower to defeat veritaserum. There're probably only three or four people in the world that could beat it and that's why testimony given under it is admissible in court. I, while I'm pretty strong minded don't have any magic. Let's just get on with this."

"Why is it so important that we believe you?"

"If you don't believe me then everything I've ever done is for nothing. If you don't believe me then nothing that happens from this point on matters. You might as well stab me through the heart and have done with it since I don't want to live through that again."

"It's an option," James admitted casually.

"James!" James grumbled at his outraged wife before acquiescing and pulling the small vial from his pocket.

Stepping around the table he ordered his prisoner brusquely, "Open!" and watched with satisfaction as the man complied. He dropped three drops of the colourless and odourless liquid onto the exposed tongue and then resumed his seat, careful to reseal the bottle against future need.

The resident family watched carefully as the eyes of their captive turned glassy.

"Let's begin. What's your name?

"John Connor."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty eight."

"You said you have a tale?"

"Yes, it's long and for a lot of it to make sense you need to hear it in sequence, so please hold off on asking questions until I finish okay? It started nearly eighty years ago with two young men…"

"You said this was important?" James asked sceptically.

"You think with the longevity of wizards that it isn't? One of those men is still alive. He's not really important, but what he and his friend did is and what they believed even more so. They were born into a time of strife, the Crimean war wasn't long in the past and the Boer war was just ending. Influenza plagues swept the world killing millions and then in 1914 the Germans declared war beginning a four year struggle that would kill more millions of muggles and not a few thousand wizards and witches.

The two men watched all of this with disdain as the muggles sought to destroy themselves and decided that wizards were so much wiser than these stupid muggles. It wasn't much of a stretch from there to actually thinking about guiding the muggles, or at least that's where they started but that quickly fell by the wayside and they argued. The first man decided that muggles were too dangerous for their own good and needed to be eradicated before they managed to kill all life on the planet. The second, thought that the muggles could be redeemed. He thought that he could lead them to enlightenment while he tried to breed the aggressiveness out of them. A little like breeding beagles really I suppose.

Anyway, for a while the young men shared a friendly rivalry over their differing opinions like many young men do. They argued quite vociferously for a couple of years until one day everything boiled over. Tempers flared and wands were drawn. Now both men were powerful and capable duellers, so their spat would normally have been nothing more than a semi-friendly bout that would end up in a draw. It didn't matter that the two of them were throwing lethal spells at each other, or at least it wouldn't if they didn't have an audience they didn't know about. One of the men had a younger sister whom he was the guardian of. He never knew that she followed him around or that she was there that day. He never knew that dodging one of his friends spells would lead to such tragedy, but it did. His friend threw an over-powered cutting hex and instead of allowing it to be absorbed by his shield as he thought his opponent would, his opponent leapt out of the way while returning fire.

The duel faltered when they both heard a shriek of agony and turned to find that Elaine, or Elana or something like that had been hit with the cutting hex and was bleeding to death right before their eyes. The brother tried desperately to save his sister but he didn't know enough about the healing arts at that time and she quickly bled to death in his arms. The friend utterly horrified at what he'd done fled the scene and shortly ended up on the continent. The only thing he took with him was his remorse and his vision of the future."

"This is all very interesting and everything but what does this have to do with how you got here and…"

"Maybe if I tell you the names of the two men in this story? You'll recognise both of them I'm pretty sure, the first one was named Gellert Grindlwald. He was the one who wanted to destroy the muggles completely by the way."

"And who was the other one?" Lily asked. Intrigued despite herself.

"The other was Albus Dumbledore…"

"You're lying!"

"I can't lie remember? Veritaserum. Besides there's a really easy way to verify my story and the person lives right here in Godric's Hollow…"

"Oh?" James raised an eyebrow.

"You know the Bagshot's? If you want to know about that time just ask Bathilda Bagshot. You might have to ask very specific questions but she'll authenticate my story."

"Don't think I won't," the dark haired man fumed. He'd never heard such a load of codswallop before, there was no way Dumbledore would espouse such a regime.

"It's kind of ironic you know?"

"What is?"

"In the end they both nearly achieved their rivals vision of the future. Before Dumbledore killed Grindlwald, the Dark Lord nearly gained complete control of Europe's governing bodies. If England had of fallen it would have all been over you know? Then there was Dumbledore. With all of his age and experience he failed to learn from his initial mistake and repeated it leaving his protégé woefully unprepared to face the final showdown with his Dark Lord. The young lad lost the fight and that lead to the almost total destruction of the world as we know it. Ah, that's all in the future of this tale though and I'll explain what I meant later.

Right, well you know most of the history of that war. Just remember that the winner always gets to write the history books, so what you know isn't necessarily true or if it is it's probably not the whole truth.

Now we get to the part of the story that concerns your family directly. This part starts in 1929 with the birth of a bouncing baby boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle. That's important information so I think you should write that down," he paused as both the Potters looked at him strangely, "I was serious. Besides it'll make more sense when I show you something else. Just humour me for a moment."

Lily shrugged as she summoned a piece of paper and wrote the name on it.

"Is that correct?"

"Yes. Now underneath that I'd like you to write, 'I am Lord Voldemort'. Oh don't look at me like that. If I were Voldemort do you think we'd be talking?" Again Lily shrugged and decided to humour the man once more, though she couldn't for the life of her think what game he was playing at.

"I hope you're good at word games, not that this one will be hard. I assume you know what an anagram is? Good, now take another look at those two things you just wrote and cross out the letters that you find in each of them." The two Potter's looked at the name and phrase with dawning comprehension and not a little horror as it became clear with each crossed out letter what he was trying to get at.

"That's right. Lord Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle. The true irony of all of this is the fact that he's a half blood. His mother was the last daughter of the Gaunt family descended directly from Salazar Slytherin, a little too directly if you ask me, and a muggle who was dosed with a rather potent love potion. Once she became pregnant she thought the potion wasn't necessary, that he truly loved her and wouldn't leave. That or she finally ran out of money and couldn't afford to make it any more, no one's quite sure which. To cut a long story short, he abandoned her and ran back to his parents crying trickery. Merope Gaunt on the other hand was destitute and underage, her family spent time in Azkaban and weren't able to support her, not that they would have. The only way she would have garnered her families support was if it were her brother's child, like I said, the blood relation to Salazar was a little too direct. She was only sixteen at the time and it wasn't uncommon for unwed mothers to end up in orphanages until after they'd given birth. She gave birth to her son, named him and promptly died of a broken heart, or that's the 'Romantic' version of the tale anyway. Young Tom was raised in the same orphanage where he was born and he was mistreated and bullied throughout his childhood.

Then one day he discovered a truly wonderful thing. If he was truly angry or afraid then 'things' happened to the people causing him to feel like that. After some experimentation he found he could control it to a certain extent and thus it was that the young boy discovered magic for the first time. He was seven when that happened, which meant he had four years to learn how to pay his tormentors back for all the times he'd been defenceless.

Now for the first time Albus Dumbledore enters the picture on little Tom's eleventh birthday. No one's sure what he saw at that time but we're pretty sure that Riddle was a well practiced liar as his discipline records show he was rarely punished for any of the 'things' that happened in the orphanage. He learned to charm his way out of trouble at the drop of a hat. This is what Dumbledore saw, a charming young child with a heart of gold who could do no wrong. He handed Riddle his Hogwarts letter and decided he'd watch this young man and see if he could possibly be of use to him in his plans to control the muggles.

The boy Riddle took to the magical world like a duck to water, to be honest he'd been practicing wandless magic for years so with the addition of a wand he truly excelled, and to say he was driven would be an understatement of biblical proportions.

That's the face that Dumbledore saw for all of the boys Hogwarts years, except for the seventh year where he finally revealed a little of what went on under that charming façade. He found, after many years of searching, the entrance to the mythical 'Chamber of Secrets'. I see you've heard of that? Doesn't really matter, since most of what's known about it is pure bunk. What is known is that Salazar built it into the very foundations of the castle and then sealed it with many Parsletongue spells. No one could enter his domain unless they also spoke the language of snakes and unfortunately the first person to come along for many years who both spoke the language and had a desire to find it was Tom Riddle. His malice by this time had become a thing of true darkness and was all encompassing. He'd heard tales of the Monster of Salazar Slytherin, with which he would cleanse the school of the taint of muggleborn wizards and witches and chose to enact part of his revenge. Speaking to Slytherin's monster he convinced it to do his bidding, especially when he revealed that he was the Heir of Slytherin and he released the creature into the school where it killed a student some forty years ago."

"How the hell do you know all this stuff? I knew about the death all those years ago but there are only rumours about how it happened."

"True, but I've got a unique perspective on the story, and my source is impeccable. On with the story. Dumbledore knew who released the monster but he saw a need for the young mans charismatic flair and thought he could turn the boy back to the 'Light' if he only tried hard enough. The problem with that was that Riddle had been studying dark magicks since his arrival at the school and had no intention of being anyone's tool. Not when they kept making him return to the orphanage he hated so badly over the holidays. So to help Riddle and prove that he could help him, Dumbledore chose to believe Riddle when he accused a fellow student of the crime. Rubeus Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts with Dumbledore's full knowledge, leaving a destitute orphan to fend for himself for a couple of months before returning and offering him a place at Hogwarts as the Groundskeeper. Now Hagrid might have only been thirteen at the time but he was bigger than most men even then so it was no hardship to do the work of a full grown man. It cost Dumbledore nothing and gained him a loyal follower in the shape of the half giant who believed that the professor had gone out on a limb for him, whereas the truth was he was the one who'd shoved Hagrid out there in the first place…."

Lily couldn't contain herself any longer, "That's just so…" words failed her as she tried to think past her confusion at the actions of the kindly headmaster she knew.

"Wrong? Sick and twisted? Yes, it was, but I assure you it was 'For the Greater Good'," John said with a sneer in his voice, "The thing is, I've never learned 'Who' this 'Greater Good' he spoke of actually benefitted, not from his actions anyway. Oh come now…you've seen him do slightly shady things yourself, things that you don't believe someone who's on the side of the 'Light' should do. And yet the moment he states it's 'For the Greater Good' you suddenly think, 'Well it is Albus Dumbledore. Surely if he says it's so then it must be.' And then you don't question him anymore. We were never sure if that was some mild compulsion he cast on everyone who went through Hogwarts or if it was just his self cultivated image that bamboozled everyone, but the truth is, the whole wizarding world are his sheep to control, whether they believe it or not." Pausing to take a sip of water John looked at his captors and felt a tiny pang of remorse at the expressions on their faces. It was a hard thing to realize your idol is actually false and for the Potter's this realization was coming much faster than they could absorb.

"Voldemort, deciding that Britain couldn't teach him anymore about the dark arts moved to Eastern Europe where such arts were much more accepted and pushed his knowledge ahead in leaps and bounds. He forged many alliances while he was there both amongst the humans and the magical creatures of the region. He learned arts that were even forbidden in that dark area and once again when he felt he had learned all he could he moved on. This time he went to the Middle East where he learned of the ancient arts of curse wards that the Egyptians used to guard their tombs. He also refined his knowledge of Horcruxes. He had only created one up til this point as he was unsure how making more would effect him. Eventually his fear of death, caused by the creation of his first Horcrux became too much and he made the second and third of his soul anchors. With each he loses a little more of his soul, and his sanity but he decides that the price is small enough that he won't mourn the loss of either.

After twenty years of travelling he decides that he's learned enough and its time to start his plan to become the next dark lord. You know the history of Voldemort once he emerged as a power in Britain. You don't know that Dumbledore has only realized in the last few years that he can not beat Voldemort. His tool has become too powerful and has shored up his vulnerabilities to the point where he has none. Dumbledore chooses to believe that he can make a weakness where none exists and thus was the 'Prophecy' born…"

"You make it sound like it's not a true prophecy?" James asked. Now he knew he had their intruder since he had seen the Prophecy Sphere that involved their son and they couldn't be faked.

"This gets convoluted so pay attention. Dumbledore has made the mistake of falling for his own press. He has created a persona of being invulnerable and infallible and over the years he's come to believe that he is. Voldemort isn't a mistake he made, Grindlewald wasn't a traitor since Albus always knew of his perfidy and was just manoeuvring him to fail. You understand?" He waited for them to nod their comprehension before continuing. "So he created a prophecy out of whole cloth about how Voldemort had a fatal weakness and the person who would be able to do so was going to be born soon. He planned it to the nth degree and even called in a has been 'Seer' to 'make' the prophecy. She had enough of the gift that she would be credible to the people he'd be sharing it with, whom would consist of the parents of the supposed saviour."

"I suppose you're talking about Sybil Trelawny?"

"That's her. Now I suppose you've heard the saying that 'Fate's a bitch'? Well it's true. Sybil might not have much of the gift, but she is related to some of the most powerful Seers in history, even the Oracle of Delphi if you go back far enough. Cassandra was her Great-great-how ever many times removed grandmother. She also had enough gift to be taken seriously, mix in a healthy dose of 'Fate's a bitch' and you get a true prophecy including the shiny little sphere you've been shown. Dumbledore was very surprised at that I can assure you but he believes he's infallible so he still thinks that it's all part of his plan and not some cosmic coincidence. She changed it enough that it gave him pause, but he thought that it was poetic licence and since it basically still says what he wants it to he didn't quibble too much over it. Now he even had a genuine Prophecy Sphere to wave under people's noses to make them believers. Fortunately there were only two children born at the end of July, those being your son Harry, and the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Everything from this point on is fact, nothing I'm about to tell you is conjecture extrapolated from different people's stories. This is direct from the Headmasters painting of Dumbledore. Not knowing which of the children to choose from he decided to hedge his bets and informed both sets of parents about the prophecy and asked you all to go into hiding. Several things you don't know…Dumbledore 'allowed' part of the prophecy to be leaked to Voldemort. Basically Voldemort is looking for a baby who will become his equal in the future. The best way to stop that from happening of course is to kill the child before it becomes a problem. Now, Albus placed you here under the protection of the 'fool proof' Fidelius ward. Might I enquire who your secret keeper is? No, don't answer that because I already know it's Peter Pettigrew. The real question is…Who suggested him?"

"Sirius Black did," James admitted reluctantly. Not that it was important now since this person had already subverted their security and was inside the house.

"And, who suggested to Sirius Black that he wasn't the best person to be your secret keeper?"

James looked puzzled at the question, "Sirius thought of it."

"Did he? Why don't you ask him?"

"I can't contact him at the moment, we're not on the floo network."

"Use the mirrors you enchanted when you were at Hogwarts. Not that it's important because I can tell you that while Sirius came up with the plan. It was because he overheard a conversation between Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall where he made his thoughts clear that Sirius was the obvious person to keep the secret and that anyone who knew about the fidelius ward would know that Sirius would be your choice. So he chose to change the rules and picked another trustworthy person to hold the secret. Having Remus currently under suspiscion for being a dark creature made his choice obvious and now Peter Pettigrew holds your secret. Have I missed anything?" John sat back taking another sip of water while waiting for the Potters to formulate a rebuttal of some kind. When nothing was forthcoming he decided he should continue.

"Here're some things you don't know. Albus Dumbledore can sense magical auras. That means that no one could sneak up on him without his knowledge. One needs to ask the question of why he needed Sirius to change the secret keeper. Why was it that Dumbledore chose to cast doubt on Remus's allegiance just as he was causing Sirius to doubt his position of secret keeper? I don't know why he wanted Sirius's choice to be limited to such an inferior wizard…"

"Peter isn't inferior….He's…"

"He's a weak willed rat. You more than anyone else should know that the animagus form is a reflection of the psyche of the wizard." He stopped speaking again to let that thought sink in. James was the one who did most of the research, along with Remus so he really knew where this discussion was going already.

"Peter wouldn't betray us!"

"He would…and he has. At least he does in the future as I know it. You might want to renew the Veritaserum at this point because what I'm about to tell you is going to be impossible to believe," John waited while James administered another two drops of the potent truth serum before continuing, "Now we're getting into the information that really matters so please pay attention. I told you that the future doesn't matter if you choose not to believe me, you remember. Well I have a unique perspective on that future, I'm not a seer or anything like that. I'm a time traveller from nearly forty years in the future."

"Oh come off it! You expect us to believe that? There's no way to travel more than a few hours into the past, since it's so dangerous."

"There are ways, they take a lot of power, but when you're prepared to sacrifice a few thousand souls to power the pentagram trust me, it works."

"You sacrificed people?" James wand rose from the table as his hand trembled in shock at the admission.

"No, we didn't. Voldemort did. We don't know his motivation for researching time travel but we think it has to do with his ego and the fact that he was beaten by a fifteen month old baby, and then later on numerous occasions by the same child. Regardless of why, we took the only chance we had, we used his pentagram which was already set to return him to about a year ago. Anyway back to the main story, I'll cover the tale of the future once I bring you up to current events. Sometime over the next few months Voldemort will capture and torture Peter Pettigrew for the information of your whereabouts. Don't get your hopes up, the 'torture' never got to the point of going beyond words. The little rodent caved without any real pain being inflicted.

Now Voldemort is one for grand gestures, melodrama, making a statement, so even though he holds the information of where you currently are he's going to hold off until a significant date. This Halloween he, along with several of his followers will breach your Fidellius ward before attacking you in the living room through there. You have to admit Mr. Potter you're no match for the evil bastard, and while you've 'thrice defied him' as the prophecy states, you've never been backed into a corner by him that you haven't been able to escape from. Maybe if you were willing to use the killing curse right from the start you might have a chance, but we both know your Gryffindor tendencies won't allow for that. He'll kill you in about thirty seconds as things stand. You Mrs Potter will die upstairs futilely guarding your sons crib from the monster.

No one's sure how Harry manages to survive having the killing curse thrown at him, or how he managed to defeat the dark lord. Some believe that it was some ancient charm that Albus told Lily about that you've been able to alter to protect your son. They believe that it will require your sacrifice as suggested by your refusal to back away from your son when Voldemort vows that he doesn't want to kill you. Other people think that Harry actually killed him with a bout of accidental magic which was why no one could tell the spell form that did the dark lord in. There are many other crazy ideas but it's all moot since there are no eye witnesses, much less a reliable one.

All that aside, you both end up dead, Voldemort ends up a disembodied spirit roaming the countryside and Harry ends up with a nasty curse scar that will never go away no matter how long he lives. Now, given that you're dead, what should happen?"

James looked at him with a perplexed expression on his face, "What do you mean, 'What should happen'?"

"It's a simple question, you're both dead, what should happen with your estate? What should happen with your still living heir?"

James's expression changed from perplexed to an 'Are you stupid?' questioning look, "Sirius Black would take our son in until such time as our wills are read, upon which he would either formally adopt Harry making him his heir, or more likely he'd become Harry's magical guardian until Harry comes of age. I get the feeling from the way you say 'should' that that's not the way you think things will go?"

"You're pretty smart. Alright, here's what I know is going to happen. Sirius like you say will come for Harry, but he will be refused custody because Albus Dumbledore casts doubt upon his loyalty. He states that as Sirius was your secret keeper…"

"…But he knows Sirius isn't our secret keeper! There's no way he can't know since the secret keeper is part of the ritual to raise the Fidellius ward."

"Yes, well it's not like everyone throws up Fidellius wards every other day, so the 'people' don't know any better when Dumbledore states that Sirius was your secret keeper. Let's keep in mind that the old man has an agenda where your son is involved and it doesn't entail him being brought up knowing about the magical world. So, having dealt with the inconvenient godfather, Rubeus Hagrid takes custody of Harry on Dumbledore's orders and then takes him to his only living blood relatives…"

"…Not Petunia? She hates magic, and me! How could he do that?" the incredulous question escaped Lily as she stared at the unwanted guest in her home, "At least it was only til our wills were read…"

"I'm afraid it didn't work the way you wanted it to. Sirius, having nothing to focus his attention on was consumed by his grief and rage at Peter Pettigrew. He tracked the rat down and was about to confront him when Peter accused him of betraying you and then blew the street up killing twelve muggles before transforming and escaping into the sewers. Sirius was arrested for assisting in your murders and killing the muggles and taken to Azkaban without trial. Albus could have insisted on a trial but chose not to for his own reasons. The next people on the list of guardians for your child were Frank and Alice Longbottom, unfortunately they were hunted down by Death eaters and tortured into insanity between your deaths and the will reading so they were unable to take up the mantle. Peter was deemed to be 'heroically' dead so he wasn't in the running. Augusta Longbottom was considered briefly but due to the fact she already had her grandson to raise she was discounted. Remus Lupin would never seriously be considered for the role since he's a werewolf. Coincidentally, a month before you died a proxy of Albus's instigated new legislation that would make it illegal for a werewolf to either produce or care for children. I believe that was all the people who were on your list of carers in the event of your deaths?"

Both of the Potters were looking at him in wide eyed shock unable to grasp the full extent of what he'd just told them.

"Look I'll simplify it for you. Sirius was in prison, without trial. Remus was unsuitable since Albus managed to pass laws prohibiting him from caring for a child. Peters 'dead', with an Order of Merlin 1st class for his troubles. What for I don't know, since even if he had died that day he hadn't done anything heroic since I don't particularly consider dying for no reason heroic. Frank and Alice are catatonic from cruciatus damage.

A question for you to think on. How likely is it that a Fidellius will be breached? Alright, it's possible, what about two? Is there a link between the two Fidellius wards?"

That snapped Lily's attention back to the discussion, "Albus suggested the Fidellius ward…"

"I know, but how likely is it that both supposedly impenetrable defences fall within four days of each other? Who happens to be the secret keeper of the Longbottom's Fidellius? Another question is, 'Why weren't you your own secret keeper?' Even if you had told Peter and Sirius the secret they couldn't have betrayed you since they wouldn't be able to relay the secret to anyone."

"But…You're telling me we could…"

"That's right. You could have held the secret yourself. There's no reason why you couldn't. Oh, and in case you don't know, Albus is the secret keeper for the Longbottom's since no one is likely to be able to force the secret from the greatest wizard of the century.

The next thing to consider is that he acts as the executor of your will, setting aside most of it. The money that would normally have gone to help defray costs for raising your son are nullified, instead that money is attributed to the magical guardian. Petunia has Harry dumped on her doorstep in the middle of winter without so much as a by your leave, and she's expected to raise him with no monetary assistance.

In the absence of a reliable guardian for Harry he puts his own name forward as magical guardian, and then gives Harry to the Dursleys to care for. If I were a forgiving man, or completely gullible I'd say he did it because he knew Petunia was your last living relative. Like you said though, it's a case of your sister hates you and magic, not necessarily in that order. She neglects Harry for years until the accidental magic starts. Then they, meaning her and her husband Vernon try to beat the magic out of Harry. Albus has a number of tracking and monitoring charms on Harry that he applied to him when Hagrid took Harry to Surrey, so there's no way he didn't know about the times he was kept in the cupboard under the stairs or the fact that he was barely fed enough to keep him alive. The medi-wizards noted that by the time he attended Hogwarts he had over twenty broken bones, numerous scars from beatings and his growth was stunted. His eyesight had been affected by malnutrition and without his glasses he was almost helpless. You get the idea?"

Neither of the Potters could believe the story they were being told, even with the veritaserum it was extremely hard to swallow.

"But…"

"Hold on, I'm getting close to the end now. You know as well as I do what the prophecy says. So you'd think that with however Harry managed to dispatch the dark lord that the whole thing would be over right? Well you'd be wrong, you see Dumbledore doesn't believe that it was all over so quickly and decides that Voldemort is going to come back at some point in the future to wreak more havoc on the world at large. A right thinking person, who believed such a prophecy revolved around a little boy like Harry would have made sure that Harry was raised to be confident and knowledgeable about the magical world. A man who believed that said boy was the saviour of the magical world would have made sure that the boy could defend himself and those around him. He would have supported the boy in any manner he possibly could, and that man being Albus Dumbledore, the support would have been massive.

Instead, he was raised by the Dursleys, if you could call it that, in complete ignorance of the magical world. In fact he didn't even know his name until he was nearly six when he entered school for the first time. Up till that point he thought his name was 'Boy' or 'Freak'. Any inquisitiveness was crushed without mercy, and woe betide him if he managed to outscore their precious son in any of the school tests. I've already told you about the injuries he suffered under their 'care'," John sneered as he said the word, "When Hagrid 'rescued' him from the Dursleys he was ever so grateful, pathetically so by his own admission, and took everything on board that he was told. Slytherin's were evil and Gryffindor's are great, oh, and a little information about you two that he'd never known before, things like he looked just like a miniature version of James here except for his eyes which resemble Lily's.

His first year at Hogwarts was…horrible, by anyone's standards. First he meets your old friend Severus Snape, whom I'm sure you remember. Well since you've been dead for ten years and Snape is a spiteful man who never truly grew up, he takes his anger at you out on your son. Asking questions that he knows are beyond any first years understanding of potions and then ridiculing him for not knowing sixth and seventh year potions. You remember how competitive the points system is at Hogwarts? So I assume you'd know what it does to his standing when Snape takes hundreds of points off of him and gives him detentions left and right for the most ridiculous matters," he had the satisfaction of watching both the Potter's pale as they contemplated that. Remembering people being shunned for losing twenty points in a week, they could only think that things had been much worse for Harry if he was losing the house hundreds of points, "And things only got worse from there. Harry's only friend for his first two months of school was Ronald Weasley…"

"I know the Weasley's, they're a nice family…Lives in Ottery if I remember correctly."

"That's them. The patriarch is a rather nice man, the woman on the other hand is a piece of work. We'll get to all that later though, there's more from his first year to cover yet. Severus Snape aside for a moment, you'd have to know about how he was treated by members of Slytherin, especially by the Malfoy heir. The boy would antagonize either Harry or Ronald Weasley until they reacted, usually with Harry trying to stop his friend Ron, or assist him if things got bad enough. Just as things got to a bad point where anyone walking up could assume that Harry and Ron were picking on the lone Slytherin, Snape would come to the rescue, thus catching Harry red-handed. It was all scripted of course. Ron would antagonise Malfoy or visa versa so that Harry could get caught and punished. Occasionally Dumbledore would intervene thus earning Harry's gratitude. Told him that he couldn't step in all the time because it'd be seen as favouritism. If Harry was one of his favourites then I'd hate to see how he treated someone he didn't like

Those weren't his biggest problems though, that would have been Quirrelmort, or rather Quirinus Quirrel, his professor for DADA, who just happened to be possessed by the spirit of Voldemort. Dumbledore manoeuvres things so that Harry comes into direct conflict with the dark lord over possession of a Philosophers stone. You can imagine what Voldemort would have done with something like that. He'd already been drinking unicorn blood to sustain himself so it wasn't like he had any morals.

Dumbledore being infallible in his own mind chose to gamble on your sons ability to thwart the dark lord, so he 'protected' the stone with a series of traps right within the halls of Hogwarts, the supposed safest place in the wizarding world. You'll note my sarcasm? Well like I was saying, he sets up some traps that didn't manage to stop a determined trio of first years, so I ask you what chance they had of stopping a dark wizard with sixty years experience? The answer is absolutely none, he waltzed through them like they didn't even exist. He was only stymied by the very last trap and only there because there were no real clues about it, given more time I'm pretty sure he would have held the stone in his hand and been reborn shortly thereafter.

Your son showed remarkable resolve along with his friends when defusing the traps created by the professors of Hogwarts and eventually caught up with Voldemort in the final room. Now Albus wasn't far away at the time, even though everyone thought he was at the ministry doing some consulting work. He was actually in a small warded room off of the chamber in which he stored the stone just waiting for the chance to either rescue Harry or step in to stop Voldemort before he succeeded in his plan. It didn't matter that Voldemort could have killed your son ten times over before the headmaster could have reacted. It was more of his 'I'm infallible' crap, besides it would have fulfilled the prophecy if Harry had of died since 'Neither can live while the other survives'. He thought it would mean that Tom Riddle would once more be vulnerable and thus he could finish the man and refresh his image as the hero of the wizarding world.

In second year a stuent was possessed by a dark artefact and released an ancient basilisk in the school. No one's sure why no one was killed but in the end Harry managed to kill the snake, with a little help and he destroyed the dark artefact. It was the darkest artefact that had ever been created as far as certain tombs of knowledge were concerned, a sort of soul anchor. No matter what happened to his physical body Voldemort couldn't technically be killed since his soul would not leave this plane of existence…"

"You mean he created a Horcrux?" Lily asked.

"I see you've been doing some research…Yeah, that's what he did but not once as you might think. He created seven of them, including himself, so six Horcruxes and himself. Getting back to the tale, in third year Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban…"

"Siri escaped from Azkaban?" James asked incredulously.

"James!" Lily admonished.

"Never mind that Lily, I want to hear how he did that," James enthused as he heard that one of the Marauders had done something that was considered impossble.

"Sorry Mr Potter but that can wait, it's not important at the moment. If you think it's still important when I've finished telling you my tale then I'll gladly tell you about it. But first, I can feel the Veritaserum wearing off, please dose me again."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…taking too much of that stuff could damage you permanently or even kill you…"

"That's not important, as long as you hear my tale I don't care if I live or die," John closed his eyes, "I'd rather not…" he trailed off as the memories of the life he'd led threatened to overwhelm him.

"Are you sure?" James queried worriedly. At Johns nod he leant forward and applied the clear liquid once more though he had misgivings about it he'd admit that the importance of the information outweighed almost anything else.

"After Sirius escaped there were a number of attacks that looked like he was trying to finish the job Voldemort had started on Harry twelve years previously…Of course he was actually trying to capture Peter Pettigrew who was masquerading as one of Harry's friends pet rat. Long story short, Harry put together the puzzle and eventually captured the rat, Sirius wanted to kill him but Harry talked him into capturing the traitor so they could prove Sirius's innocence. Severus Snape discovered them and in the scuffle that followed Pettigrew escaped. Harry stunned Snape and tried to catch the rat but it turned out another of your friends was there and it was a full moon. Harry suddenly had more important things to worry about than the rat. Oh, I nearly forgot…at one point the Dementors who were patrolling around Hogwarts grounds managed to corner Harry and he had to fight off over a hundred of them with his Patronus…"

Lily let out a hissing breath as she heard that, "How could you forget about Dementors?" she nearly shrieked at him when she'd collected herself.

"Well they're not a problem where I'm from…Voldemort destroyed them when they were no longer a threat to him but that's a different story. The end of third year saw Sirius on the run after Harry helped him escape from Ministry custody. It was the fourth year that proved to be pivotal to the future, and with a little help and belief from Albus Dumbledore could have helped Harry to win the whole shebang. Anyway it started with Albus and some numb-skull in international co-operation bringing back the Tri-Wizard tournament…"

"They put my baby in that didn't they?" Lily asked flushing with furious colour as only a red-head could, only she wasn't embarrassed.

"Yeah, that's about it. Again given a little thought Harry could have been pulled from the tournament without anything bad happening. Albus didn't want him pulled though for some misguided idea that Harry would get some much needed experience for his eventual fight against Voldemort, who wanted Harry to compete so that he could be tricked into helping the dark lord to come back from his near death state just before he killed him and unveiled his plans for world domination. The ministry wasn't fighting it very hard since it would make it easier for them to pull the blanket over their heads and ignore the monster under the bed if Harry died in the competition. It all ended with Harry winning the trophy, helping Voldemort revive, much against his wishes I might add and then managing to escape to the dubious safety of Hogwarts. Hold onto your questions because that's where everything went pear-shaped and Albus made the biggest miscalculation in the history of mankind.

Don't look so sceptical, no other human error led to the eradication of ninety nine percent of the human race in one day. Albus assumed that he'd have time to begin the war so instead of hunting down and removing the known death eaters he let things slide and reactivated the Order of the Phoenix assuming that the second war would be just like the first one. A few disappearances, some terror tactics and small skirmishes leading up to a final confrontation somewhere where Albus controlled with the light side winning the day of course.

It didn't happen that way though, instead every death eater vanished without a trace. Those who knew that the Dark Lord got more worried as time went on but they had their own problems because the ministry was actively persecuting Albus Dumbledore and anyone perceived as supporting him. He lost most of his positions of authority in England that year, not that it mattered. He assumed that Voldemort would return the same as when he was first alive, he assumed a certain level of sanity on the part of the Dark Lord when in truth the wraith that he had become lost its sanity irrevocably. Instead of wanting to rule the world as it is he decided he wanted to rule the world as he recreated it, as a God. He had nearly thirteen years of uninterrupted planning so when he finally had a body he only needed to put his followers to work.

He taught his faithful followers to make a runic device he'd devised when he was younger, though he never told them what it would do. He told them it would syphon off all the magical energy in an area and store it and allowed them to draw their own conclusions. They assumed that it would give them the power to threaten the governments of the world and thus take over. So they swallowed their pride and went from large town to large town offering to create statues of some great hero that had been born there, or a war memorial or some such. No politician was likely to refuse a free monument that he wouldn't have to justify the cost of to the public so they travelled across the globe, gradually moving onto larger towns and then cities.

Voldemort planned it, they kept a tight schedule and eighteen months after it had begun they had place the last of the devices in the major metropolises of the world as they'd take the least time to reach critical mass…" he paused as Lily's eyes widened at the phrase.

"What is it Lils?" James asked perturbed.

"That phrase, critical mass…it's used to describe when an explosion reaches its trigger point…" she looked at the middle aged man across from him with haunted eyes beseeching him to disabuse her of her notions.

"I'm sorry, but you're right. Nineteen months after his return, give or take a few hours the world ignited in magical flames. The only warning he gave was to the magical communities of the world so they could flee major towns and cities. After all there's no point in destroying everything when you plan to be an immortal god and be worshipped by everyone. That day the world died and the remnants of Earth began what little resistance they could raise. Four or five hundred death eaters wasn't a real threat to a world population in the billions but against a few tens of millions they actually stood a good chance of winning especially with the other weapons he'd created," his bleak eyes met the horror filled eyes of Lily before turning to James and seeing a similar expression in his eyes.

"That is why I have returned. There is hope…"

/ To be continued….? \

Okay, be honest, tell me what you think. Is it new enough for everyone, have you seen anything like it? I like to do this, try to think of something different, that might not have been done before and then make it plausible, or at least as plausible as I can.

I don't particularly crave reviews, though I enjoy them as much any other author. I'll never hold my readers hostage and ask for a certain number of reviews before I'll release the next chapter. I will admit that reviews can make the difference in whether I'm inspired to work on a particular story or not, but I will always come back and attempt to finish what I start. It might take a while, but if it doesn't have **Abandoned** in the story description then you can assume I'm still working on it.

Thanks for your attention and I hope to hear from you.


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